


Stone Cold Solid Rock Every Point Stop

by sugoi_auriga



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Best Friends, Dreams, Friendship, Fujizuka, Future Fic, Gen, Light Angst, Lingering sadness, Loneliness i guess, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Salaryman - Freeform, Smoking, Tezufuji if u squint, angst with hopeful ending, is2g there is Hope, looking back, unhealthy eating habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugoi_auriga/pseuds/sugoi_auriga
Summary: Fuji is now a 26 year old marketing associate. He's not into tennis anymore. He's not eating healthy either. Sometimes he has dreams. Sometimes he lets himself remember.
Relationships: Fuji Shuusuke/Tezuka Kunimitsu
Kudos: 5





	Stone Cold Solid Rock Every Point Stop

_The night that the fierce typhoon passed,_  
_I was looking down on the city from the top of a tall building._  
_I’m still a little erratic, tearing at the edge of its departure._

Sometimes Fuji dreams.

In his dreams there's the unmistakable sensation of being suspended on the air while doing a jump serve. Then he feels the loud _thwack_ of the ball hitting his racket. A figure is receiving the serve and returning it to him with a force that makes his blood thrum. The rally seems to last forever. He feels happy, content. 

The scene changes to him looking at a bright blue sky and an outstretched hand. _"Good game, Fuji,"_ he hears a deep voice. It is calm yet happy. He is familiar with this voice. He follows the line of the arm reaching out to him and recognizes the silhouette of Tezuka. He can't see his face properly though. Tezuka is standing directly under the sunlight.

Fuji motions to stand and uses his left arm to block out the sun a bit. He squints and sees a familiar ceiling, stained and grey, with little patches of sunlight that peeked through his curtains. He realizes that he has woken up. 

His dreams usually end there. This time was no exception. With a pang of longing he thinks that he never found out who won that match. He never sees where the ball last landed. He is only always sure of that outreached arm and Tezuka's soft _"Good Game, Fuji."_ Words he never heard from the man himself.

He can’t keep laying on his futon in melancholy though, lest the strings of regret come and he'll start to have feelings again. It's still too early in the morning for this. The last time he had this dream was after an especially frustrating overtime that saw him home in a crying mess while laying in the bathtub. He supposes that it must have been what? last month?

He sighs deep, gets up, rolls his futon and starts his day with a cup of instant coffee, an oatmeal bar and a cigarette.

He powers up his smartphone to see that it is already Saturday and he has to get to the office in 2 hours. Despite his father putting in a good word for him during the initial interview, he still has that low ranking contractual job many Japanese his age suffer in. Four years in the same company he's somehow managed to get marketing associate position. He's in charge of a few kouhai and he does most of the logistics and fieldwork for many of their projects

Their team has just finished a major project last week and while they are in the middle of a few others, miraculously things aren't as hectic. Yesterday was probably the first time in 3 months that he was able to get home before 7 pm. He actually got a good rest last night. Perhaps that was why the dream came back.

He'll have time to ponder on it later, he thinks as he puts on a worn down suit (one of three that all serve as his uniform) and makes to leave his apartment to catch the train to Tokyo.

Calling colleagues, researching forms and additional permits, reviewing purchase requests and a brainstorming session deciding where to get supplies for the props of their Osaka project, Fuji’s workday is somehow over at exactly 5 pm. Yesterday he punched out at 5:20. Today is a better improvement. He had bought groceries yesterday, so he's suddenly got this evening free. He goes to the nearby 7-11, eats fried chicken and has a smoke. He then walks down to the park.

This park is about 10 minutes walk from their office building and is full of trees and shrubs. There are a few kids in the park's playground. Other visitors are people who have also just come out from their jobs. The unique thing about this park is a small shrine and a fujizuka hidden away in the middle. It’s the closest thing to a mountain and Fuji likes how quaint it is. Fujizukas are meant to be mini replicas of Mt. Fuji for people who can't visit the actual thing yet still want to do pilgrimages. Mt. Fuji had always been sacred and many cults revolved around it. Monks of one of those cults must have made this particular fujizuka a long time ago.

Fuji can't remember the last time that he came here. Maybe it was two years ago, maybe it was when he just started his job and wanted to explore the area surrounding his office. How nostalgic and cute, he smiles at the past him. The sun is still up and bright though, so he risks climbing up the little hill. He knows he won't ever come here on his days off so he takes the opportunity and imagines that he’s climbing Fuji-san himself. Step by step up the few staircases he realizes that he’s out of breath and panting. It took more effort than he expected. Has he been inside airconditioned spaces for too long? Has he been subsisting too much on canned goods, instant ramen, energy bars, coffee and cigarettes? Are they already taking a toll on his body?

There was one time where he actually climbed the real Fuji-san in his youth. He went with Tezuka when they watched the New Year Sunrise on Mt. Fuji together. It was a good experience. They were both so young when Tezuka, being the mountain otaku that he was, saw an article about the famous activity. Fuji was sitting beside Tezuka when the latter read the magazine in their old school’s library. He had jokingly told Tezuka that afternoon that if Tezuka wanted to do it then he should invite Fuji too. Tezuka left for Germany in November of that same year.

Somehow Tezuka hadn't forgotten. The year after he left for Germany he had called up and invited him for a Mt. Fuji New Year's Sunrise Expedition. They had been 17 at that time. Tezuka was expected to come home for the end of that year after all. Both of them had gone together with Tezuka’s mountain climber senpais and had loads of fun.

That was one of Fuji's most memorable New Year's celebrations. Tezuka was even game enough to strike a pose with the famous sunrise at his back. Fuji had sent that photo to their former teammates and rival school friends, much to everyone’s amusement.

(A senpai had taken a picture of the two of them after that. Tezuka and he both had copies in their private collection.)

Fuji hadn't realized that he had reached the peak of the fujizuka and was already mindlessly watching the sun coming down between the buildings. What a time to recall those memories, he thought. He snaps a selfie with the last light of the sunset. He think it is a bad shot, but he does not delete it. Moments like this don't come often anyway. He feels the breeze on top of the hill and notices the park lights are slowly being turned on. He thinks the scene is pretty like this. He imagines that he must look silly to passers-by and gets down the hill quicker than when he went up. Climbing hours are from 6 am - 6 pm after all. It is already 20 minutes past 6 pm and luckily the shrine staff haven't followed him asking him to come down.

When he reaches the bottom, one of the staff had already shown up ready to close the gate to the fujizuka and put up the "No Entry" sign. She greets him "good evening" when he leaves the threshold of the small gate.

The park atmosphere has turned lively after being illuminated. The lights inside the office buildings surrounding the park have been lit too. Fuji thinks the sight is beautiful. He sits on a bench under a tree and gets an oatmeal bar from his briefcase. He’s eating dinner tonight in this park. The view is great.

This is his world now. After 3 years of middle school, 3 years of high school interspersed with 3-ish years in the All Japan Youth Tennis Camp, he had specialized in advertising after taking up a business major in university. Fuji had traded the open skies of tennis courts battles for boardroom wars and billboards and skyscrapers. 

Finishing his oatmeal bar, he pulls out the canned black coffee he had bought at the 7-11 as the final piece to his fine dinner. He had always liked coffee since he was a teenager. Only that time, he liked tennis too. Fuji can't even remember when he had last held a tennis ball and a racket. He can't even picture when the last time he played was. Yet he remembers the sensation from serving and hitting the ball, remnants from a recent dream.

He did have that dream this morning didn't he? Fuji muses. Lighting up his after-dinner cigarette (his fifth for the day), he watches the hazy smoke go up into the evening sky. He leans his head back on the park bench and pictures Tezuka’s figure in his dream blocking the midday sun. He thinks that dream match must have been really good. If he was lying face up in the sky then he must have been wonderfully exhausted in the way only playing sports can give.

If he stood up, took that hand and shook it, would he have seen Tezuka’s sweaty yet smiling face (like that secret smile from the Nationals)? Fuji himself might have probably been in happy tears too.

He lets his mind float and imagine scenes further into the dream. He and Tezuka would have refreshed themselves and gone to a nearby cafe. Tezuka would have ordered tea and he good coffee while looking at the cafe decor. They would have scheduled another match with each other.

Maybe he’d have said _“Thanks for the game, Tezuka,”_ in response to Tezuka’s words.

 _“Good game, Fuji,”_ softly repeats like a mantra in his head. These are the words Tezuka never said and will probably never say to him anymore. 

While being on U17 camp Fuji had promised to fight for himself, to develop his tennis and climb to greater heights with Tezuka as his guidepost. That had been the last match he and Tezuka had played against one another. The balls had kept ending up on the opposite side. The sound of them never getting returned after Tezuka left him on that court still left dull echoes in his heart.

It was memory he did not like to revisit much.

At 16, Tezuka had been sweet enough to leave a message for him when all the teams were interviewed in that year’s U17 World Cup Tournament. Tezuka had said _“let’s play until were satisfied,”_ to Fuji. Eiji had giggled when showing him that pamphlet. 

Three long years in the All Japan Youth Tennis Camp and still they never got the chance to play a match against each other despite Japan being able to face Germany a handful of times. Back then they had called, messaged and encouraged each other until Tezuka had officially gone Pro. 

Before classes had started in the year they viewed the New Year Sunrise on Mt. Fuji, Tezuka even invited him to spend a night together at a swanky hotel at the Zugspitze. That was Fuji’s personal side trip during their family’s vacation in Europe. Tezuka had been given a voucher that did not expire. They had rode on a cable car and gone skiing. It had been wonderful. 

(Fuji briefly remembers that he had chosen the side trip instead of visiting Southern France with his family. He had met up with this parents and siblings in nearby Switzerland after because Tezuka had to return to Berlin.)

He and Tezuka had been close (ridiculously close). They had kept their friendship strong despite the distance. Their final year in high school had both kept them unbelievably busy. Looking back at it they may have been too busy to realize that the communication between them have grown sparse. 

Fuji doesn't remember when the last phone call or email between them happened. He's not even sure if he mentioned to Tezuka what university course he took. He had joined with the group call congratulating Tezuka on becoming Pro. He is now wondering why he nor Tezuka hadn’t done a follow-up call in private. He remembers being so preoccupied with preparation for the University entrance exams that year. He doesn’t know if Tezuka was aware of where he had gone either. Inui or Atobe might had kept Tezuka updated but there’s really no way to know right? 

Fuji’s not really a genius anymore, he does not know many things.

His cigarette is almost half its original length now. He stares at it and recalls a proverb that went _“a prodigy at ten, a genius at fifteen and an ordinary person at twenty.”_ It had been 8 years since he played in official matches. He was said to have the reputation of a genius in the middle school and high school tennis circuits for those six years. 

Now he has long passed the 20 year mark, He supposes he had become the stereotypical Japanese office drone the teachers always warned them about. He’s still at most a junior in his company and he has not been impressing a lot of people. 

His thoughts sadden him so he takes a long drag of his cigarette and feels the mint and nicotine calm him down. At times like these he lets that inevitable feeling of self-pity wash over his mind. He likes his job though. Like tennis, there is still a certain thrill and grit to it that he has learned to enjoy and be grateful for. Six years in the profession, he had experienced the inferiority Yuuta used to feel in middle school. 

But if he were honest to himself, he's getting more tired than ever and his life outside work is dull. He suspects that he must be depressed. He’s not sure of it medically. He hasn’t got himself checked. He is aware that the Japanese culture of overwork is catching up fast enough to him. This is why he does not take for granted the tiny little pockets of free time he can have for himself, just like this moment now, in this park. 

He wonders what Tezuka will think if he ever sees him now. Will Tezuka think of him as the deserter who has given up and chosen the easier path of life? The promise breaker who has ran off to some distant prefecture never to be found? As the friend who never properly said goodbye? As the rival whom he’ll never have a proper match again?

Realizing that his cigarette had been reduced to nothing but a stump, he chuckles at himself wryly and he stamps it out on the ash tray next to him (He’s sitting within the park’s smoking area after all). He wipes a stray tear that has escaped his eye. Must be the smoke, he lies to himself.

He stands up and stretches a little and declares in his mind that No, Tezuka will never think that lowly of him (he hopes). Tezuka will always understand. He knew Fuji best after all. Tezuka will forgive the man Fuji has become. Their friendship was sturdy that way.

Gathering his briefcase, Fuji hopes that if they meet again, Tezuka will give him a pat on the shoulder or two. Maybe Tezuka will also buy him a beer and then say _“Good to see you again, Fuji,”_ in that kind and gentle voice of his.

And maybe Tezuka will invite him to a cafe where Tezuka will order delicious tea and Fuji will order a damned good cup of coffee.

With those thoughts Fuji leaves the park in a better mood and heads home. Tomorrow he will do his laundry and sleep all day. Maybe soon he’ll see Tezuka’s face bathed in sunlight, the continuation of his dream (or maybe real life).

**Author's Note:**

> Lately I overdosed on fluff. This is what happened. Also I wanted Fuji to be ordinary.
> 
> from wikipedia: Fujizuka (富士塚) are small mounds, commonly found in and around Tokyo, which represent Mount Fuji. During the Edo period (1603–1868), a cult arose around the mountain, one of whose major devotional rites was to climb to the peak. Pilgrims who were unable through age, infirmity or gender to climb Mount Fuji would ascend one of these surrogates instead. They were usually around ten feet high, and replicate the 10 stations on Fuji itself, from the foot of the mountain to the summit.
> 
> I am basing my fujizuka on imperfekti's description since she has been to an actual one. XD
> 
> References to Tezuka and Fuji's Tenipuri Party Profiles were used.
> 
> In a special Houkago no Oujisama chapter, Fuji sends a phot of Tezuka with the New Year's Sunrise behind him at Mt. Fuji to Momoshiro and Kaidoh. I don't have the Japanese tweet but I have the chinese houkago version picture here  
> https:// nuisancehelicopter.tumblr. com/post/128280517232/momo-and-kaidoh-new-years-evedawn
> 
> Coincidentally, the Japanese tag used for Fuji/Tezuka pairing is 塚不二 pronounced "zukafuji."
> 
> Title is from _City Lights_ By Nujabes ft. Pase Rock and Substantial.  
> Opening Lyrics is from _Imaginary Folklore_ by Nujabes ft. Clammbon.
> 
> P.S. I know how it sounds like but Tezuka is not dead. They really just drifted off from each other. There must be a way to make them meet again. Maybe Fuji's company gets a deal to work with Tezuka as a product model or smth. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Remember to Stay Safe. Wash your hands regularly and avoid Large Crowds. The world is now in a mess and everyone is coping in their own way. Be at Peace. Happy Easter (If you celebrate it).


End file.
